


Name Day

by Desdimonda



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Blood, Blow Jobs, Choking, Deepthroating, Dom/sub, Dominant Unknown, F/M, Knifeplay, Light BDSM, Marking, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 06:12:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19167424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/pseuds/Desdimonda
Summary: MC innocently mentions it’s the 11th June.His birthday.So they celebrate :)———————Set in an AU prologue setting I have where he can’t fight his temptation to go to her so soon before he’s even planted the chatroom on her phone. He visits her at (place where she works/performs) for a few weeks and their relationship becomes intensely physical very quickly. She’s a lot more than he expected, and he doesn’t want to let her go to the RFA just yet, even though it’s angering his Saviour.I might write this AU one day lmao. For now enjoy smut one shot.





	Name Day

“Your name’s not really Ray is it?”

She takes a long draw of her cigarette as she stares out the window, cracked open enough to hear the hiss of rain as it washes the stone and concrete. She only really smokes now when she’s with him. While they drink or after sex. 

There’s a lot she only really does with him.

He tilts his head to the side, watching the smoke curl around her fingers, the ghost of a viper, in, and out.

“What if it is,” Unknown drawls, stretching a leg over the side of her old armchair. “What if it isn’t.”

There’s much he gives her on these nights, but very little of it is words. It had always been like this from the start. Even before body met body, they’d barely said hello. And now, she felt like if she wanted to say goodbye to this arrangement, she’d have to pay a price. 

Good thing goodbye was the last thing on her mind. 

“Your name isn’t real either,” Unknown says, simply. He knows everything about her. What’s real, what’s not; what’s good, what’s not. He leans back into the armchair and wraps lazy fingers around his half hard length as she continues to smoke. She’s only wearing his jacket. The zipper catches her pert nipple now and then when she moves. 

“You act like you know everything.” Her lips surface behind a haze of smoke, slowly, before she stubs out the end and leans against the window, watching the thick drops of water fall. It hasn’t stopped raining for hours, but it’s not cold. It’s stifling in her tiny apartment, thick with the stench of smoke and sex.

Unknown smiles at her words, giving her no challenge. His silence will be enough to stir. 

“Won’t you even give me your real name? What you do?” She moves to walk past him, but pauses by his bare arm, fingers tracing the elegant black ink etched into his taut muscle. It always looked like the Eye of Horus to her. But not quite. “Or even about...this.” 

She moves away, defeated by his silence, as clear eyes stare ahead, as his hand keeps it’s lazy rhythm. 

But he caught her wrist, firm and fierce. 

“Where are you going?”

She resists. “To get my phone. Where is it…?”

Unknown lets slip a wry smile. “On the bed.” He lets her go.

She never left it there - did she? Stretching as she walks back, changing a song with her phone, she nestles on the arm of his chair. Unknown lifts his hand from his hard cock, and idly strokes her thigh, warm pads pressing against soft flesh. She sighs. 

“Shit. How is it 4am already. And the 11th. I have an audition this afternoon. I thought I had another day at least.”

Unknown pauses, fingers poised in a claw. 

_ 11th June. _

He doesn’t realise, but he holds his breath. He stares, watching the reflection of the rain on the wall, dappling her photos.

“Hmm?” She taps her phone, replying to a long ignored message as she feels him tense. And just, stop.

“It’s my birthday,” he says softly.

That, she didn’t expect. His voice feels oddly...intimate. It doesn’t fit the man she’s known these nights, these trysts. And he’d given her something personal, willingly. She puts down her phone, the metal case rattling against the windowsill. 

“I wanna say happy birthday, but…”

He still stares at the wall, watching the shadow of the rainfall slip and dance over photos. Across smiles and friends, across happiness and family. Those words have always been something else to someone else. Now is no different. Mostly. He smiles with her, sometimes. But it’s always weighted with why he’s really here - what he should have done the first night he met her, and left. 

But he came back. 

It’s not real happiness either, is it. It’s transient. Lies upon lies upon stitched truths. But she doesn’t seem to care, either. 

So he came back. Again.

Unknown slips his hand between her legs, pulling them apart. “I’ve never had a happy birthday,” he says, lolling his head to the side to catch her eye. “Or even celebrated one.” He inches his hand up, thumb grazing her slit. “Not that I care.

“What if I do?” She pulls out his hand, which pulls his attention. It’s not in her grip for long, for soon she is, sliding off the arm, and into his lap. 

He sneers, pinching her chin. “You  _ care?”  _ he whispers. Mint eyes narrow as they dart down, up, waiting to decide what to do. 

She doesn’t answer, but she touches. Fingers trace the jut of his shoulders, and up, until they twist around his collar, familiar against the soft leather.

“Show me,” he demands against her ear.

“Show you what?”

She never yielded easily. But that was part of their fun.

“Show me how you care.”

She’s still fingering his collar. He never admitted how much he likes it when she touches it, when she pulls it. He snaps away her hands -

Will _ she _ ?

Click, click, he unbuckles the clasp, the metal rattling against leather and neck as he unties the doubled strap, letting it whip round, and catch her arm. Hmm. She’s still wearing his coat, the zip dragging against her full breasts every time she breathes. It can stay, for now. 

“And how do I do that?” she goads, watching her answer slide between his fingers. She’s always wanted to wear it. 

“Just like this,” he whips the collar around her neck, and pulls the long end through the buckle. He twists the leather around his hand and yanks her head forward, a strained gasp biting her lips as they meet, nose to nose. 

She can barely speak, but she can smile.

“Are you going to do as I say, princess?” He licks her lips, once.

“Remember our safe word,” she manages, her voice pinched tight by the collar. But enough to hear.

“Mmm.” She’d insisted on one. It was a courtesy he’d give her. There was a reason he kept coming back by  _ choice.  _ “Flowers. Delicate and pathetic, just like you if you can’t handle me.” 

All she does is stare, watching his wild, green eyes, glow.

“Sit.” 

Knees tuck either side of his thighs, dragging against her chair. Hands try to give balance, but she soon finds out that’s what his leash is for. He’s reaching for something down the side of the chair, and with a click, a flip, he brings it up, the moonlight catching the glint of pointed metal that extends from his hand. 

“I said,  _ sit.”  _ He nudges his hips against her, just a little, his cock brushing against her stomach. But that’s not all.

A cold, metal tip touches her lip, the flat side dragging down, and down, as it echoes the curve of her chin to her neck, until it touches metal to metal, with a clink.

She’s not a stranger to his knife, but somehow, this feels different.

So she sits.

The collar pinches her moan as she sinks down onto his cock, taking all of him in. Her moan is only quelled more when he pulls tighter.  _ Tighter.  _

There’s no hesitation. She begins to ride, her hips rocking sweetly, neatly.

Unknown bites his lip, pressing the tip of his knife against the leather of the collar. “Good girl.”

Patience, is gone. Using the arms of the chair as leverage, she moves like she owes him her body. But in this moment, in his clutch, her body  _ is  _ his. And as the knife trails down her neck, the cold metal stopping between her breasts, he reminds her just how much.

“You want to know my name?” 

She pauses, taken aback.

Unknown yanks her forward, choking her roughly. Whisps of her hair fall free, coating his skin.

“Yes,” she says. 

“Mmm.” He draws the flat edge of the knife along her breasts, thinking, watching, before he sits up, sharply, cradling her with an arm. “Did I say you could stop.” He pricks her with the knife, next to an old scar. He remembers that one. He doesn’t remember them all. But this next one, he will. 

She’s slower now, as she clings to him. Her heart races, almost pushing through her skin as she watches him poise the knife over her left breast. His eyes flicker up, catching hers for a still second, with that wicked smile. It’s her chance, her chance to whisper their word and stop. A second. He waits. A second, he presses the knife to her breast. A second, she moans.

And  _ moans.  _

He loves it when the flowers are  _ crushed.  _

He carves the ‘S’ smoothly into her breast, groaning when he sees the first drops of blood fall over her soft flesh, held steady by his hand. With each cut, she moves faster, deeper, as if she finds more of him to take, the pleasure to the pain. 

The moonlight turns her crimson blood an almost black, but the streetlight breaks through, catching the droplets as it falls, spreading over her peaked nipple. 

He pulls the leash before the ‘E’, steadying her erratic body. For his sake too. He’s far too close.

“Slower,” he hisses, blood stained fingers holding her by the chin, still. “Or I’ll hold you down.”

She draws her fingers through his white hair, nails to scalp. 

He digs in hard for the E and she almost collapses against his chest. She obeys, slowing down, and watches him carve. The letters smudge with her blood, she can barely read.

His hands are trembling and crimson by the time he’s on ‘N’. Her chest is a bloody mess and she wants to  _ touch.  _ Will he let her? He flicks away his knife, dropping it to the floor. Pulling up the edge of his top, he dabs away what blood he can, and then leans down and kisses away the fresh swell before it smothers her breast. 

She is so close - so close that the gesture alone almost brings her there.

“What does it say?” she breathes through a moan.

He looks up, licking away her blood. “That you’re mine.”

He devours her smile with a coppery kiss, staining her moonlit face as she rides him fast, faster; hard, harder. 

Unknown pulls roughly on her collar, so rough she can’t breathe. Her nails drag along his back. All he can hear is the desperation in her throat for a breath, of a moan to escape, of a word to form. It’s beautiful, listening to her restrained, caught, crying out for release.

He pulls again, her whole body moving from the force.

But then it stops. Silent, still, as she’s blinded by her climax, the cry of bliss muted by his hand. 

Unknown can feel it, though. He can feel it all. See it all. 

Fingers drag across his name, branded across her breast as he lets her have a last few seconds.

She’s on the floor, pushed back to her knees, but stopped short of falling too far by his makeshift leash. Unknown tugs, keeping her head held high, rigid, in place as she fumbles shakily by his legs, trying desperately to catch her breath.

But he doesn’t let her.

Hand on leash, hand on hair, he pulls her head and sinks his cock between her lips, not stopping until he hits her throat. She expects it. But with the collar, it hits harder, her breath as biting as the knife that had claimed. A hand held his thigh to steady her, the other touched his name, a shaky finger tracing the bloodied letters, trying to decipher, one by one. 

But it takes all her strength to just, breathe.

Unknown yanks back her head, watching the way her mess of hair caught in drops of sweat, of blood, threads marring her skin. She paints a picture of delight, just right. 

Fist in hair, he guides her head up, and down, pushing his cock as far as it will go every time. He hears her choke, splutter, the gasping desperation of a breath cold against his length. But he doesn’t stop. When she can’t talk, three fingers up is  _ stop,  _ too. And her fingers are sunk neatly into his thighs, her blunt nails trying to make their mark. He’d only let her mark him once. She had to earn more.

He tightens the collar as he pulls her closer. He thinks he sees her hand move up, but it just spreads across his thigh, bloodied fingers colouring his skin. 

She’s never quiet, and even now, near choked into silence, she still manages to fill her small apartment with  _ noise.  _ With delectable, sweet sounds that he’ll make sure from now, will only ever be  _ his.  _

_ His.  _

Her teeth drag along his length. Unknown shudders, twisting her fistful of hair. He’s not going to last much longer - she was always so good at this. Maybe he’ll tell her one day.

Maybe she already knows.

His grip, loosens. She pulls back sharply, his swollen tip resting against her lips.

With a snarl, he lifts the leash, but she stops him with a word-

“Saeran.” It’s whispered against his cock with wet lips, red with blood, with lust. “I like it.”

A finger smears the remnants of the blood across his carved name. “Good.” He drags his bloodied finger beneath her eye, with a wicked smile. “Because it’s yours, as much as it’s mine, now.”

He pulls her collar, and she obeys. 

Seconds is all it takes, and a last lick of her tongue around his tip, and he’s  _ there _ , quietly, painted nails dragging along her scalp, back arching sharply with a flurry of white hair, this way, that way, as he lets himself surrender to the only thing he’ll allow. 

A hand holds him steady as he fills her mouth with his seed, bitter, biting, but she swallows hungrily, her lips cresting the weeping tip as she looks up at his breathless visage, split by the moonlight. Even in the shadow, his green eyes shine through, ethereal, out of place. 

She kisses his tip, licking away a drop of cum. “Happy birthday,” she whispers, her voice hoarse.

Unknown smiles as he reaches for his phone and clicks on the camera. 

“It’s only just begun.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
